


Six of One

by mollrach13



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Babies, Character Death, Gen, M/M, Magic, Magic Revealed, Season/Series 05, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollrach13/pseuds/mollrach13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History repeats itself. Arthur and his Queen cannot have children, so they seek their answers in magic. </p><p>They trade a life for a life. The Queen is ready and willing to make this sacrifice for the future of Camelot. But magic never weaves straight. </p><p>Merlin was not a sacrifice Arthur had been willing to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six of One

**Author's Note:**

> written for a kinkme_merlin prompt. Was supposed to be gen but threads of Merlin/Mordred kept creeping in unconsciously. Set in some vague time sometime after the beginning of season 5.

Mordred could feel the eyes on the back of his neck. They weren’t merely watching but assessing, always judging, waiting for Mordred to slip. It was not a comfortable sensation, it trickled and crawled. The ancient magic within Emrys sweeping his entire being inside and out, searching for the flaws.

“Mordred.”

Mordred blinked from where he had been staring into nothing, absently running a whetstone up and down his sword, to see the King stood before him in the armoury, still decked out in his fine armour, his eyes face drawn serious.

“Sire,” he replied deferentially, shifting on his perch on the bench.

“Queen Guinevere and I would like for you to join for dinner this evening.”

Mordred felt Emrys’ stare intensify against his back, he struggled not to squirm. “Of course my lord.” 

“Excellent,” Arthur announced before turning to sweep from the room. “Merlin!” 

Mordred turned just in time to see Emrys’ stare on him and the uncomfortable frown between his eyebrows before he escaped the room after the Once and Future King. Mordred couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief. 

\--

Mordred dressed and redressed many times before he found himself stood outside the royal quarters that night. He fidgeted and laid a hand gently over the plain wooden door. He could feel it; the power running through the grain, spreading out like a net around the King and Queen’s room. The warm, earthly magic could belong to none other than Emrys. Mordred studied its intricate patterns, the complexity of the protection and then blinked when the door opened and Emrys himself was staring back at him. 

“Sir Mordred,” Emrys nodded, pulling the door back into the room. 

Mordred swallowed and nodded back, stepping through the enchantments cloaking the room, feeling them wash over his skin like water. Inside the room was warm, lit with a multitude of burning torches and a large fire in the ornate fire place. 

“Ah, Sir Mordred,” Arthur greeted with a smile, standing from the head of the small chamber table. His Queen was already sat at his side and gave Mordred a smile. “Please, come. Sit.”

Mordred swallowed and gave Emrys one last look, almost of permission, before he stepped forward. He sat at the table slowly, startling when Emrys leant forward to pour him a goblet of wine. 

“Thank You,” Mordred said quietly. 

There was almost silence as Emrys placed the dishes on the table before them all. Mordred clasped his hands beneath the table tightly and sat with a straight back. The King and Queens chambers these might be, but Emrys’ presence and magic were stamped all over them like a golden glow and Mordred felt like a trespasser on a scared place. 

“Merlin,” the King barked once the table had been laid. Emrys snapped his head up from the servant’s position he had taken in the shadows by the wall. “You are dismissed for the evening, we can see to ourselves.”

“Arthur-“ Emrys blinked, taking an aborted step forward, his eyes flicking fearfully to Mordred for a moment before fixing back on his king. 

Arthur just leant back, rolling his eyes. “I’m giving you the night off you idiot, do you really want to argue with me?”

“I heard Gwaine and Elyan were going to the tavern this evening, maybe you can join them,” the Queen spoke, giving Emrys a small smile. 

Emrys rolled his eyes. “They’re always in the tavern.”

“Just go before I change my mind and send you to muck out the stables.”

“It’s pitch black out!” Emrys responded incredulously. 

“What’s your point?” 

“Fine,” Emrys huffed, his gaze flicking back up to Mordred fiercely once more, his eyes telling Mordred of swift retribution were anything to happen in his absence. Like anyone could possibly lay a finger on the royal couple within these protected chambers. The door shut behind the servant as he left and Mordred turned back to the smiling royal couple before him. He picked up his goblet and took a large gulp and hoped to the Gods neither of them choked on so much as a grape during this dinner. 

\--

The meal was quite pleasant; the Queen enquired about Mordreds life since Arthur had seen him last and seemed quite perturbed to discover he had been in a Druidic camp Uther had stormed. 

“They are truly peaceful people,” Mordred explained. “I don’t mean to speak out of turn my Lord,” he spoke to Arthur quickly but although the King was frowning, it was in thought rather than displeasure and motioned for Mordred to continue. “Of course magic can be used for wrong, for death and hatred and revenge but…I have seen it heal the sick, create fires to keep us warm, enrich food when we were hungry, summon water when we were thirsty…”

Mordred trailed off staring back at the two Royals who were watching and listening in rapture. 

“Magic,” the Queen spoke quietly, capturing her husband hand in hers, “it can be used to create a life can it not?”

“Yes,” Mordred spoke slowly, his gaze flicking back and forth between man and wife. “In some circumstance it has been known to do so.”

Queen Guinevere turned and looked at her husband pointedly who sighed deeply, lifting their connected hands and placing a kiss to the Queen’s knuckles. He turned back to Mordred with sombre eyes. “We cannot produce any offspring.”

“Sire?” Mordred answered in shock. 

“The Queen and I… we have tried and been unsuccessful to produce an heir,” Arthur continued, his gaze drifting to the table. “The times are too dangerous to leave the throne unprotected, especially with Morgana around….” The King took a deep breath, lifting his blue eyes to stare straight at Mordred. “We want to enlist your help, and that of magic, to create an heir, a child.”

Mordred blinked and then blinked again and looked at the Queen’s serious face and back again. “You want me to use magic?”

“Yes,” Arthur nodded, squeezing his wife’s hand. “We have discussed it at great length and we… this I what we wish.”

“Sire,” Mordred began weakly, leaning forward in his chair. “You must know that is it not as simple as just lighting a flame. It’s forcing the balance of life and death. There will be a price.”

“We understand.”

“And are you willing to pay that price?”

“Yes,” Queen Guinevere spoke strongly. “Yes I am willing. For the future security of our kingdom.” 

The royal couple looked at each other for a moment before Arthur sent his wife a small sad smile and turned back to the knight sat in shock before them both. “Will you do this for us Mordred? Will you help us and Camelot?”

“Yes sire,” Mordred responded at a whisper. “I would be honoured.”

\--

Merlin had trotted around after Arthur all day, sending jibes and jokes in the King’s direction, trying to get some kind of response. But today it seemed the King’s mind was on greater things than his servant’s idiocy, his gaze set far away, his frown troubled and thoughtful. 

After the council session Merlin stood in the King’s chambers carefully peeling Arthur’s red cloak from his back. 

“You’d think after all these years you would have learnt to do this yourself,” Merlin quipped, hanging the cloak carefully over the changing screen for later. 

“Hmmm,” Arthur mumbled in response, rounding his desk, eyes down on the papers on it. 

Frowning, Merlin shook his head and stepped forward. “Alright, what is it?”

“What?” Arthur said blinking up at Merlin from his desk. 

“You,” Merlin huffed. “You’ve missed at least three very good opportunities to mock me today. Something is definitely wrong.”

“Not now Merlin,” Arthur sighed, rifling through the papers on his desk. “I have too many things to do.”

“Arthur,” Merlin spoke softly, his face creasing in real concern. “Tell me.”

The King sighed, his gaze flicking up to his servant then to the blue sky blanketing above them through the window and took a deep breath. “Guinevere and I can’t have children.”

“Oh,” Merlin breathed in shock. “Oh Arthur, I’m sorry.”

But the King waved away his concern, his gaze still fixed resolutely out the window, his eyes suspiciously bright. 

“There are options,” Merlin continued coming to stand at the side of the desk in hopes Arthur would look at him. “You could take one of the Knight’s children as a ward; train them to be your successor…”

“No,” Arthur replied, turning his gaze back down to the desk. “The Kingdom is not stable enough; there would be too much grey area for them to govern successfully. The only way to secure the future stability of Camelot is to have a successor whose rights are not in question.”

“Arthur, you have time. You don’t need to sort all this out now.”

“But I do Merlin,” Arthur replied hotly. “Don’t you see? Did Ismere not teach you anything? I could have died, perished in those tunnels had Mordred not saved me and I would have left my people unprotected.”

“So what will you do?” Merlin whispered, staring at his King with compassion in his eyes. 

Arthur’s shoulders slumped, the weight of the entire Kingdom visible on them for that one moment. “What I must,” he replied sombrely, straightening his shoulders. 

Something in his tone, that steadfast, stubborn tone that always preceded Arthur doing something reckless and dangerous, always ‘for the good of the Kingdom’, made Merlin straighten and look more intently at his King and Destiny. 

“Arthur,” he said lowly. “What are you planning to do?”

Arthur fidgeted for a moment, before he took a breath and spoke with a steady voice. “Magic. We are going to use Magic to help us conceive.”

“Arthur no!” Merlin blurted out before he could stop himself. He leaned forward, his hands resting over the papers Arthur was pretending to read, but he could not fool Merlin. “Arthur there is another way, there must be! Did you not learn from the mistakes of your father?”

“I am not ignorant to what will be asked for Merlin,” Arthur replied shortly, staring at Merlin with burning blue eyes. “I am aware that there will be a price, and that I will lose that most dear to me. Trust me I am aware.”

“You may think you can prepare for the loss Arthur but it –“

“Do not presume to tell me what the loss of my wife will feel like Merlin. She is -” Arthur broke off and shook his head helplessly. Merlin swallowed and felt the aching loss that Arthur was preparing himself for. Merlin had felt it, multiple times over the years, and wouldn’t wish it upon anybody. But the King pulled himself taller and carried on gruffly, “but she has agreed it is for the best.”

“There is always a price Arthur,” Merlin cautioned urgently, “and you may not always know what it will be.”

“The balance is will be kept, don’t worry.”

Merlin blinked at stood back for a moment, weighing and considering all that had been said before a haunting realisation came over him. “You’ve already gone to some about this… Who?”

“…Mordred.”

The name punched through Merlin’s mind like a physical blow. “Mordred,” he whispered weakly. “But he’s just a boy-”

“He’s a druid,” Arthur interrupted. “He knows of their ways and teachings. He said he is capable.”

Merlin swallowed down the panic and impending doom he could feel coming upon him, this moment he was in, he could feel it, as he had felt countless moments before, where this conversation in this place could sway the tides of time. He leaned forward trying to catch Arthur’s eye and spoke seriously. 

“You are trying to force the balance of the world in your favour Arthur.”

“I’m done talking about this now Merlin,” Arthur spoke dismissively, pointedly picking up a scroll of parchment and settling back in his chair. “Don’t you have something to clean?”

“Arthur, please,” Merlin continued urgently. “I’m talking to you as your friend. You don’t know the powers you are dealing with here.”

Arthur looked at Merlin with hard eyes over his papers. “And I am talking to you as your King: get back to work.”

Merlin swallowed and saw the stubborn set to Arthur’s eyes, the thick set to his jaw. The hurt of his dismissal was nothing compared to the fear growing rapidly inside him. He could feel the storm clouds building on the horizon and a familiar feeling of helplessness surrounded him. As soon as he was able, he left the chambers, his heart clamouring in his chest for a resolution.

\--

Mordred felt him coming before he saw him. It was no surprise to him now that Emrys could find him wherever he fled, the ancient one’s ties to Magic so close all he needed to guide him was his senses. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Emrys’ cold voice spoke to Mordred’s back. Mordred looked out over the town of Camelot, hands resting lightly on the castle walls where he stood. 

“I was just taking a moment to myself Emrys,” he responded purposefully ignorant. “I did not mean for my presence to disturb you.”

“You know that is not what I am talking about,” Emrys hissed coming to stand right behind him. Mordred didn’t turn but he could feel the heat from Emrys’ body and the sizzle of his power beating against his back. “You have told Arthur you will grant him a child, that you will use magic to do so. What do you think you are playing at?”

“I’m not playing at anything,” Mordred said, gritting his teeth to retain his anger, his frustration. “It is doable, and they know of the consequences.”

“Do you?” Emrys growled. “These powers are much too ancient for a boy to play God with.”

Mordred twisted around now, coming nose to nose with the leader of his people, the saviour of his race, stood before him in tattered clothes, the servant to an ignorant King. He hated it. And he hated the sneer of distrust he saw every time he looked upon this prophesied being. 

“Just because you are too afraid, too much of a coward to use the gifts you were born to Emrys, does not mean that I am not!”

“I am wise enough not to mess with such things!” Emrys shot back, gold power glinting in warning around the edges of his eyes. 

Mordred’s magic felt the urge to cower, to kneel and plead forgiveness, but he swallowed it back and hardened his eyes. “The King has requested it and I am will do as he asked. You cannot sway me.”

He swept then passed Emrys’ still form and made for the door to the castle. Perhaps if he retired to his chambers he would get some peace for once. 

“Mordred,” Emrys’ voice called out to him, its soft pleading tone stopped Mordred in his tracks, but he did not turn. “If you had any care for Emrys… I am asking you not to do this.”

Mordred swallowed back the tears wanting to spill and set his jaw. “I am sorry Emrys but you are no longer my king and Arthur has asked this of me. I will not deny him.”

Mordred walked away, his back to Emrys and did not look back.

\--

Merlin tried and continued to try to convince Arthur, even Gwen, to not do this. All he succeeded in doing was make Arthur furious and make Gwen cry. The more he tried the more stubborn Arthur became and the further and further Merlin felt pushed away, sent on errands only to return to find Mordred leaving the royal chambers. 

The knight’s eyes would meet his and skitter away quickly leaving before Merlin could even muster a reproving look. 

They were all speeding towards a wall and Merlin was helpless to stop any of it. 

\--

Merlin felt it before Arthur announced to the council that Guinevere was expecting. He felt the balance of the world begin to tip beneath them all and his magic clamoured to correct it. But Merlin grit his teeth and served wine at the celebratory feast, kept his mouth shut and stuck to the shadows. 

It was a mark of the downhill turn to his relationship with Arthur that Arthur hadn’t told him before, in fact they hadn’t spoken all day since the announcement was made. 

That night Merlin absently went through the rotes of preparing the chambers, lighting the fire, dousing the candles. Arthur stood in his night clothes absently running through the reports on his desk. 

“You know,” the king spoke into the silence of the night, startling Merlin from his distracted gaze into the fire, “a man who claims to be my friend would have congratulated me on the news of a child.”

Merlin snapped his gaze around from his crouch by the fire to stare at Arthur incredulously. “You want me to congratulate you? Really?” 

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed. “This is what Guinevere and I want, we have made our choice, why can’t you accept that?”

“Because it will end in disaster.” 

“I don’t want to lose a friend over this Merlin.” Arthur looked up with wet eyes. “My wife will be gone and I will need all the help and support I can get.”

“Then I am happy for you,” Merlin said standing up from his crouch. “But I cannot support this.”

Merlin left the chambers without another word and stayed awake all that night, trying to follow the tendrils of magic to see where this all would lead. When morning came his eyes itched from lack of sleep and the sun made his head pound and he still had no answers. 

The Queen continued to blossom and grow the life within her, thriving with the magic used to create it. Merlin watched from afar as the King and Queen spent more solitary hours locked away together and felt he balance tip more wildly under his feet. 

\--

It came quickly. One moment Arthur was sat before his council, listening to the Lords drone on about taxation. Then Merlin watched an inconspicuous servant dart into the room, whisper something in the Kings ear, and then Arthur was off, striding swiftly from the chambers. His knights shared a glance and followed quickly. 

Merlin blinked and then blinked again, awful realisation forming in his gut. He had gotten so used to balancing on the sea of tumultuous magic that he hadn’t noticed that the storm was reaching its eye. 

Instinctively, Merlin cast his eyes across the room to the table where Mordred still sat wide eyed and a touch fearful. Their eyes met, an eternity passing through their gaze then they too were off, leaving a council chambers of bewildered nobleman in their wake. 

\--

“I don’t want you to go,” Arthur choked out helplessly, gripping at his wife’s hand. She lay regally upon their bed, the only sign of her discomfort a slight paling in her face and she smiled back at him serenely. 

“Arthur,” Guinevere murmured, lovingly pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “We’ve talked about this. And I won’t be gone; I will always be with you, and our child. This is what we want.”

“I know.”

“Then smile, you will meet our child soon.”

Arthur tried, and he managed a quick upturning of his lips at the thought of a child, an amalgamation of his and Gwen’s love into one spectacular being. Guinevere managed to return the smile momentarily before she clenched her teeth in pain and a small distressing sound escaped her lips. 

Arthur could do nothing more than watch on helplessly, grip his wife’s hand and wait for the inevitable. 

“Arthur, sire?”

Arthur blinked up to find Gaius stood beside his bed, eyeing him with unconcealed pity. “What?”

“It’s time perhaps you should-“

Arthur grit his jaw and straightened his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere.”

\--

“Cheer up mate,” Gwaine said, giving Merlin a slight punch to the arm. “We’ll have a new Prince or Princess to play with soon. This time we’ll get in there early, beat out the ‘Prat’ from a young age.”

The rest of the knights littered around the corridor tittered in laughter but Merlin could only swallow and try not to be sick. He felt similar to the time Arthur forced him on a boat, the floor moved beneath him and the magic surged around him trying to find its correct course, as if someone had stuck a massive great boulder into the middle of a docile river and the water was trying to correct its course. He didn’t know how anyone could stand it, how the knights could stand there so cheerfully and how Mordred could be standing there, hands behind his back leaning against the wall. 

As if feeling Merlin’s increased scrutiny the druid looked up, his eyes meeting Merlin’s for a fleeting second before dodging back down to stare at his boots. 

“Alright,” Leon sighed getting up from his squat on the floor. “This is going to take ages, back to your posts men.”

There were grumbles and groans but the group got up and started moving off until there was only Merlin and Mordred left. Tense silence filled the space. 

Time passed indeterminately, the ebbs and flow of time moving on around Merlin. The only beings in existence himself and the Druid across the way. All of his focus, all of his mind settled on the still, silent man opposite; on the slump of his shoulders, on the cautious tilt to his head, to the blood red cloak hanging around his body. Merlin could feel it coming, the moment it all changed, and he was stood waiting in the shadows as normal to clear up the mess. 

“Mordred.” 

Merlin and Mordred both startled up from their respective glares; Merlin on Mordred and Mordred to the floor – to see Gaius sticking his head out of the wooden door frame, opening the door just enough so Merlin could hear the health cries of a baby in the room. His heart skipped. 

“Sir Mordred,” Gaius spoke again now he had the knight’s attention. “The King and Queen request your presence.”

Mordred nodded and, with a glance at Merlin, slipped into the room.

“Gaius,” Merlin called just before the physician retreated. “What’s going on? Is everything-“

“Everyone is alright Merlin.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes,” Gaius spoke kindly. “Now, I have to go...”

Merlin frowned but nodded, retreating back to his spot against the wall. That wasn’t right - the new life was here, living breathing and crying in this world, so where was the price…

“Oh,” Merlin mumbled horrified realisation rushing through him. “Oh no.”

And he ran. 

\--

Leon smiled as he inspected the armoury shelves. He was happy for his King, and his Queen. There would soon be a bouncing baby royal wandering through the castle. The future and prosperity of Camelot certainly seemed secure and bright for the first time in a long time. 

A clatter from the shadows of the room startled Leon from his reverie and put him on alert. Straightening his shoulders he unsheathed his sword and stepped cautiously towards the noise.

“Hello?” he called into the room, hearing his voice echo back. “Who goes there?”

He rounded the pillar swiftly and stopped in his tracks at the sight he saw. 

“Leon,” Merlin whispered from where he lay half propped against the spear rack. Leon’s eyes widened and his stomach clenched as he took in the sight of the Kings manservant. His face, drawn and pale stared up helplessly from the floor. He lay sprawled as if he had no strength to stay upright and the blood…. speckles of blood mottled the corners of his usually pink lips.

“Merlin,” Leon breathed, immediately sheathing his sword and coming to his knees beside the servant. “What happened?”

“Please,” the servant choked, reaching out a shaking hand to grab at Leon’s wrist. Leon watched in horror as more blood appeared from his mouth. “I tried –“

“Merlin,” Leon spoke urgently gripping the man’s shoulder. “We must get you Gaius. You will be alright.”

“No there’s nothing…” Merlin shook his head a few heart-breaking tears slipping helplessly form the corner of his eyes. “Here, help me…”

Merlin’s other hand lifted shakily to his neck and started pulling fruitlessly at his neckerchief. Startling into action Leon jumped into assist the Physician’s assistant, reaching around the man’s now lolling neck to untie the scarf. Leon held it urgently forward to Merlin, but Merlin shook his head tiredly. 

“Tear it,” he exhaled, “into eight.”

“Merlin-“ Leon began, his heart beating quick and worried at the paleness of the man before him, and the ever increasing blood now dribbling from the man’s mouth. 

“Just,” Merlin interrupted, staring at Leon with wide pleading eyes clouded in pain. “I don’t have much time.”

Leon stared back and swallowed down his rebuttal, tearing into the thin fabric with vigour. Once the scarf was held in Leon’s hands in tatters Leon held it out to Merlin quickly, but instead of grabbing the fabric and applying it to his unseen wounds, instead of doing any of the myriad of things Leon had expected Merlin reached a shaking hand out and placed it lightly over Leon’s.

“Merlin what-“ Leon began urgently, seeing the man’s deteriorating state. But Merlin just blinked back tiredly and then Leon felt his hands grow warm. A gentle tingle in his palms that made him frown down. A golden light sprouted from beneath Merlin’s fingers so brightly and suddenly Leon reared back and blinked up to see a residue of gold fading from the servant’s eyes. 

“There,” Merlin sighed, slumping back against the spears. “That should…. I hope that’s enough. It’s all I have, please…. Leon….”

Leon startled back from his shock in time to see Merlin’s eyes slip closed and his body go limp against the rack, a long shaky exhale leaving his lips. The knight darted forward, discarding the objects in his hands and reached frantically for the servant.

“Merlin!” he called. When he received no response he grabbed the boy’s arm and lifted his body from the cold ground, rushing from the room. 

He almost collided with Gwaine on exit, the knight not unsurprisingly away from his post. Gwaine quirked an eyebrow in amusement that quickly retreated into concern when he saw Leon’s face and recognised the figure slung over the knights shoulder. 

“Gaius,” Leon called frantically at Gwaine as he swept passed. “Get Gaius!” 

\--

Mordred blinked and looked at the King poised regally on the side of the large bed; his arm wrapped tightly around the shoulders of his Queen, and in the Queen’s arms lay a baby. Then Mordred blinked and looked again and frowned. This wasn’t right, he had… he had done everything he was supposed to, there had to be a price…

“Mordred, what is this?” the King asked. “You said there would be a price, yet Guinevere… she’s still here. Is magic just playing with us?” he finished dangerously. 

“No sire,” Mordred assured. He concentrated on the glimpse of magic’s currents he had mastered. It was difficult but he could get an idea of the movement of magic through the mortal world. And there had been an imbalance, he could feel it. But it was righting itself right this minute. 

Mordred looked back closely at the Queen. She looked tired, but… there was no linger of magic on her and she looked perfectly healthy. Her eyes gaze back at him, hopeful yet afraid; afraid to feel hopeful before her life was pulled from her. She clutched more tightly at the little bundle in her arms. 

“The balance is restored,” Mordred spoke slowly, still trying to follow the trails of magic for an answer. But it was difficult, like trying to catch water. Only a true creature of magic could follow its path. 

Mordred swallowed down the impending sense of dread he could feel sneaking up on him and Emrys’ voice ringing through his mind. ‘These powers are much too ancient for a boy to play God with’. 

…He needed to find Emrys, to beg for his guidance in this, to find out what would be taken before it was all too late-

“Gaius!” a frantic voice shouted through the door. Sharing a concerned look with the king the physician hobbled over to the door, opening it to reveal Sir Gwaine’s worried face. “Gaius you need to come quick it’s-“ but the knight cut himself off glancing quickly at the King, “you’re needed urgently.”

“Sire?” Gaius asked glancing back over to Arthur. 

“Go Gaius,” the King nodded, face frowning slightly in concern before the bundle in the Queen’s arms wriggled and he looked down to them both, his face softening, “and thank you.” 

Gaius nodded and followed Sir Gwaine swiftly from the chambers. The door closed behind them but Mordred stared at its wooden face, the ancient magic still running through its grain, as with most of the castle like its life blood. 

“So Guinevere is safe?” the King asked, drawing Mordred back to the present. 

“But the balance-“ the Queen began from her bed.

“You’re alive Guinevere,” the King interrupted. “And we have a son, what else could matter.” King Arthur turned to Mordred then and his mouth opened and words came out but Mordred didn’t hear them, because it was at that moment he felt it; the sound of the world imploding around them. He watched in horror as the gold net encasing the chamber, in the wood and the stone began to recede, he heard the Druidic elders, voices so long dormant in his head, cry out in anguish. 

He felt Emrys die. 

\--

The scene Mordred ran into was one of chaos. Leon stood yelling at Gaius who was checking over his patient for a hidden injury, Gwaine was shouting at them both and Percival and Elyan were stood to the side hovering worriedly, both trying to find out what exactly had happened. 

And in the centre of all that noise and movement lay Lord Emrys, on a bed of wood and rope, still… too still. 

Mordred gave no thought to the men around him as he pushed through and crashed to his knees beside the warlock. 

“Emrys?” he whispered fearfully, hesitantly lifting a shaking hand to rest against the man’s chest… still, no movement. Swallowing back the sob that wanted to break lose he gave the strong chest an urgent shake. “Emrys!” he repeated louder. But there was nothing, literally nothing. 

The golden and blue aura that flowed through everything Emrys was was gone, the faint buzzing of power in the back of Mordred head whenever his Lord was near was silent, the chest upon which Mordred’s hand now clutched was still. 

“No,” he choked blinking wet eyes up to Gaius watching on forlornly. “Gaius, do something!”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” the physician choked. “He’s gone.”

Mordred didn’t see the knights surrounding him crumple with grief, he didn’t see the tears flowing freely down the old physicians face. All he saw was Emrys; his sharp features and his strong jaw, his cheekbones and beneath covered eyelids he could still see those hauntingly beautiful eyes he had never forgotten from all those years ago… And he couldn’t be, couldn’t be gone.

“This isn’t,” Mordred stuttered. “This wasn’t what was supposed to happen!”

“He warned you,” Gaius growled through his tears. “He tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen.”

“This… This isn’t my doing. I did what I was supposed to do!” Mordred cried. “I – I can fix this.”

Mordred swallowed back his useless, useless tears and concentrated on the small well of power within his soul. His hand pressed tightly to Emrys’ firm chest and the other rested gently against the man’s pale jaw and he pushed. He pushed all the magic within him, funnelled it through his will into Emrys and felt the power within him eyes flare from his eyes for the first time in many years. 

He pushed it all, everything he had into the connection, willing Emrys’ heart to beat, to send life giving blood through the man’s veins. Mordred felt the power surging and collecting around them both, felt the bed on which Emrys lay shake, heard the bottles on the shelves around rattle and shatter, heard books fall from their shelves. He pushed and pushed until he could no more and finally took a breath. 

He opened his eyes hopefully… but there was no change. 

“No,” Mordred growled in denial. “No, there has to be-“

“What the hell is going on down here?” 

Mordred glanced back over his shoulder to see the King stood in the doorway glancing around at the fallen debris. His golden crown sitting neatly on top his head, his red cloak flowing regally around his shoulders and Mordred felt his eyes narrow and his heart seethe. 

\--

Arthur’s eyes bounced between the bodies in the room, his frown of annoyance slowly morphing into one of concern at the stricken faces of his men and the tears freely slipping down Gaius’ face. 

“Wha-“ he began before his eyes fell on the bed before Mordred and his face went slack. “Merlin?”

The king was on his knees beside the small bed in a blink his wide eyes scanning the body before him powerlessly. “Gaius,” he asked helplessly looking over his shoulder. “What?”

Gaius opened his quivering mouth but shut it, quickly stalling the sob that was trying to escape and just shook his head forlornly. 

“No,” Arthur whispered, his hands frantically pawing at Merlin’s neck and chest for the beat of a heart before lowering his head quickly to lay against the man’s still chest. When he pulled back his face was pale, like it had been his own life-force drained, and he looked at the still body lying on the bed. “No. Gaius,” the king pleaded to the physician. “Do something!”

“There isn’t anything I can do sire.”

“There has to be!” Arthur cried. “Use magic, anything!”

“Haven’t you learnt,” Gaius growled, suddenly furious. “Has this taught you nothing? Life and Death are not powers to be trifled with.”

“But this isn’t… It wasn’t supposed to be him.. I-“

“He warned you, told you you couldn’t contain these forces but you didn’t even listen, worse you pushed him away,” Gaius scoffed, his voice uncharacteristically bitter. “It seems that he paid the ultimate price for your ignorance.”

Arthur stared back at the physician, his childhood teacher, a let the single tear escape his eyes. 

“Can someone please tell me what the hell happened?” Percival asked from his stand in the corner, his eyes staring between the physician and his king wide and wet. “Merlin… is he really…. He doesn’t even have any wounds!”

Gaius swallowed and tore his eyes from the slump of their king. “His life was torn from him.”

“Magic?” Elyan asked fearfully.

“Arthur killed him.”

All eyes turned then, as one, to the boy, the new knight still slumped beside the servant’s bed, his hands gripping tightly to the man’s pale and now cold hand. 

“What?” Leon gasped staring wide eyed at his king. 

“No-“ Arthur growled. But Mordred had lifted his eyes from where they had been focused at the cold empty body before him fixing the King with his steely gaze, no hint of the kind, charming boy they had all grown to love. 

“Arthur,” Mordred hissed staring down the king over Emrys’ body, “your great King and warrior traded the life of his lowly servant for an heir to continue his reign.”

“No!” the king denied again, his watery eyes sparking. “No that’s not what happened! It was you-“

“You think that I would have chosen you, you and your regency over Emrys?” Mordred hissed dangerously rising up above the bed. “He was our saviour, the one who would bring peace, and now he’s gone all because of you!”

“What?”

Mordred sneered down upon to the king, the almighty king of Camelot cowering below him, his eyes wide and pathetically wet. Like any tears he shed could make one iota of difference to what he had just done... the life he had just taken. 

“Congratulations Arthur Pendragon. You have just murdered the only being that stood between your kingdom and destruction.”

\--

“What?” Arthur whispered looking up at Mordred pleadingly. He placed a hand gently, forlornly over Emrys’ still chest, his fingers clinging slightly into the thin material of the tunic. Mordred felt his eyes narrow further. “I don’t understand... I thought… the balance!”

“The balance for something your kingdom needed to continue was something your kingdom could not survive without,” Mordred chuckled darkly but Arthur was no longer looking at him, his eyes were focused down onto the pale waxy face of Emrys’ body. Mordred watched the Kings hand cup gently at the warlocks jaw, his thumb rubbing against the cold flesh. 

Arthur was murmuring, apologies; pleas for forgiveness, Mordred didn’t care. His whole being was focused down onto that point of contact; where the bloodied hands of a murder dared to taint Emrys’ pure skin. 

“Don’t touch him,” he hissed. Arthur’s face snapped up but it was too late. Mordred’s eyes flared gold and the king went flying, knocking the physician and the approaching Leon in his path. “None of you touch him!”

None of these men, these men that were not worthy of the love Emrys granted them would not touch or taint him anymore. As carefully as Mordred had seen Arthur handling his new born Mordred stooped, gently scooping his arms under Emrys’ stiffening shoulders and knees.

“Mordred?” the king spoke groggily struggling up from his sprawl in the corner. Arthur’s eyes widened though when he saw the Knight and sorcerer backing away from the cot, Merlin in his arms. “Mordred put Merlin down. Now!”

“No,” Mordred replied coldly tightening his hold. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Don’t you think he has given you enough? He gave you the last years of his existence and now his life. You have your wife, your child. You got what you wanted aren’t you happy now?”

“No,” Arthur said wetly. He reached out a calming hand in the Knights direction. “Mordred this isn't what I wanted-“

“Enough!” Mordred barked, his eyes flaring gold in warning. “We’ve both heard enough from you.”

Arthur’s eyes widened like he knew what Mordred was planning to do before he even did it. He clumsily lunged forward, reaching a grasping hand across the physician’s rickety cot but it was too late. Mordred smirked at the desperate king as his eyes flared gold once more and in a whip of wind the knight was gone. 

\--

This was the part of grief that Arthur hated, and he had felt his fair share over the years – the constant turning of the earth, the feeling that if you didn’t look hard enough you wouldn’t be able to tell anything had really changed, that the world was whole.

Arthur stood arms crossed staring out at the city before him, people running about their normal lives, unaware that the world as it stood had irrevocably changed. Arthur took in a shaky breath, pushing his closed fist hard to his mouth. They didn’t know, more over the people below his feet probably didn’t even care. 

Had their Queen died there would be public mourning, a week of sobriety and candle lit vigils and an anniversary marked in the court calendars to remember the date that Camelot lost its queen evermore. There would be none of that for a servant, even the servant of the King…

“Sire?” 

Arthur turned slowly from his gaze to see Leon stood warily by the open chamber door, obviously having knocked and received no answer. Arthur didn’t know what his face looked like, whether it mirrored the tumultuous mess of emotions running through him but whatever it was made Leon swallow and lower his gaze slightly. 

“Where is the Queen and prince?” Leon asked gently after the silence hung between them heavily for a moment. 

“Prince William is with the nurse maid,” Arthur spoke, not surprised when his voice came out cracked and gritty. “Guinevere…. Gaius had to give her something... to calm her down.”

Leon nodded slowly in understanding and Arthur had to turn away from his knight, hiding the fresh wave of tears that tried to escape his eyes when he remembered Guinevere’s face when he had told her what happened, how her eyes widened in disbelief, in horror and how she refused to believe him, refused to believe that her friend was gone. How she demanded that Arthur send for him right then, that she wanted to introduce her son to his uncle. And Arthur had held her as her rage and disbelief dissolved into tears and guilt, not even being able to give her a body to grieve over. 

Arthur’s jaw tightened visibly. “Have you found him yet?” he growled casting his now steely stare at Leon. 

“No sire,” Leon replied, apology in his tone. “We’ve sent scouts out the forest but we have had no such luck yet.”

“Well look harder!”

“We are trying Arthur, he… Merlin was our friend too. But Mordred has magic, he could be anywhere.”

Arthur but his lip to stop the tirade he wanted to shout at his knight, his loyal knight. “He needs a proper burial,” Arthur finally spoke quietly, grief choking his words. “He needs… he deserves a resting place. Something…”

“He was a sorcerer Arthur,” Leon said, shaking his head sadly. ”The law states-“

“I don’t care!” Arthur thundered before taking a deep breath. “And we don’t know that. We only have the accusations of a deranged knight and magic user. I will not condemn a man’s memory on unsolicited rumours.”

Leon shifted uneasily then not meeting Arthur’s eyes. Which was a red flag signal to Arthur, Leon never withheld information, especially from Arthur. “What Leon?” Arthur asked stepping forward towards the knight. “What is it?”

“I saw him Sire,” Leon spoke hesitantly, “when I found him, in the armoury. He… with his last breaths… it was definitely sorcery sire, there is no mistaking it.”

“What did he do?”

Leon hesitated again but reached into his belt pouch, his leather gloved hand held out before him towards his King. Upon his palm where eight stones, blue at first look but each swirling otherworldly and within each interlaced a different colour too indistinct and flighty to pinpoint but undeniable. 

Arthur looked up in question to see Leon’s face pale but firm. “Merlin made them sire, from… he asked me to rip up his scarf, I thought he was going to use it to treat himself.”

“But he made stones?” Arthur asked in confusion looking back down at the swirling masses in Leon’s hand. 

“Yes, I was going to ask Gaius what their purpose was but… things have been…”

“Yes,” Arthur replied distractedly, mesmerised by the swirling colours, before straightening and hardening his gaze. “We should go now.”

\--

The door to the physician’s chamber bounced off the wall behind it as Arthur stormed in. But the rage and storm he had twisted himself up into slumped dramatically when he saw the elderly physician, the man he had known since he was a boy, looking older and more weary than he ever had, hunched at his table staring into space. 

But at the cacophony of the King and Leon’s entry Gaius looked up, revealing wet glistening eyes on his drawn face. 

“Gaius,” Arthur spoke clearing his throat. 

“Sire?” Gaius frowned. “Is everything alright?” He began to push himself from the table but Arthur waved him down.

“No… everything’s… it’s fine Gaius,” Arthur mumbled waving Leon forward. “I’m sorry to trouble you at this time but we need your knowledge.”

Leon held out his hand wordlessly showing the ethereal stones still swirling in his palm. Arthur watched as Gaius’ face slackened in awe and he hovered an aging hand over the spheres. 

“Leon discovered them,” Arthur spoke, watching the old man’s face carefully. “We believe sorcery was involved. Is that correct?”

“Yes sire. Powerful sorcery,” Gaius almost whispered still staring at the gems. 

 

But Arthur’s jaw tightened, and his heart seethed and his vision blurred with anger as he pulled back his shoulders. “Merlin made them,” he spoke lowly into the room. 

Gaius shook his head manically. “No sire-“

But Arthur’s mouth slackened in shock because he could see the lie behind the frantic denial.

“You’re lying,” he whispered in wonder stepping forward towards the aging physician. “Merlin was a sorcerer?” 

It was barely conceivable, madness to even consider such a thing but it was there, staring him right in the face, sitting in Leon’s palm. 

“He practiced magic?” he shouted into the silence as Gaius just watched him wide eyed, more tears pooling in his cloudy eyes. 

“Sire,” the physician whispered into the throbbing tension of the room. “Does it matter?”

“Matter? Of course it matters!” Arthur raged all the emotions the grief the guilt the joy and fear of the last few hours raining down on him. “He… he’s lied to me! All this time. I trusted him and all the while-“

“All the while what Arthur?” Gaius snapped, his glistening eyes becoming hard. “All the while he worked tirelessly and unthanked in the background ensuring that you and all you held dear were safe. That is all he has ever done so if you are just here to besmirch the memory of my boy you can leave!”

Arthur and Gaius stared each other down, stormy eyes to stormy eyes. It was Leon who broke the strained silence, speaking quietly into the room.

“What are these,” the knight asked holding his hand still steady before him. “Merlin used his last breath to create them. What could be so important?”

Gaius looked down at the stones in Leon’s hand a fresh wash of grief on his face. “Oh my boy,” he whispered picking one form the pack and rolling it between his fingers. Arthur and Leon both held their breaths awaiting his word. “They are for protection,” Gaius spoke quietly and wetly after a moment, placing the stone back in Leon’s grasp. “No, that’s too simple. These are not merely protection charms; they are the embodiment of protection.

“They…” Gaius swallowed. “Merlin’s power was not something you can be taught, not something you can recreate in another and unsurpassed in competition. But he was quite happy to serve you Arthur, he believed in you even when you shut him out and ignored his sage advice. Each of these… they were made specifically for one other.”

“This one’s for you sire,” Gaius said lowly taking one stone and holding it reverently out to Arthur. “It holds just a fraction of Merlin’s innate power fed with his intent to protect you. It is a powerful and precious object… there is one here for your son as well.”

Arthur couldn’t hold back the tear that slipped down his cheek as all the tumultuous emotions surging through him collided. But when the stone was placed in his hand, even separated from his skin by his glove it… there wasn’t really a feeling that describe the feeling of safe, loved, protected, that washed over him, the exact feeling he would get but never admit to when Merlin shot him one of his proud smiles across the council room or camp fire.

“Mordred,” Arthur choked eventually swallowing down his tears, “Mordred called him Emrys?”

“And that is a long story sire,” Gaius replied tiredly sinking himself down onto the bench, his eyes drifting over to the closed wooden door at the back of the room.

Arthur thought of his new born son in the rooms above, his little hands and his little nose. He thought of his wife, knocked asleep in her sorrow and guilt in their chambers. He thought of his knights all wallowing in their own grief. And then he thought of his servant and his smiles and his wisdom and his cheer, the constant steadying presence and then thought about the body, cold and still that had lain on the cot just over there….

“I have time.”

\--

The air whipped around Mordred’s face, whipping his cloak around him in a flurry as he landed on the shores of the sacred lake. His whirling winds whipped water up into the air but Mordred paid it no attention. He did not look up to marvel in the beauty of the surrounding trees, nor the tranquil beauty of the still waters. 

Carefully, so carefully, he knelt to the rock shore, placing his cargo gently upon the ground, his head resting in Mordred’s own lap. 

He paid it no mind when the waters before him rippled, paid no attention as the creatures of the forest peered their heads around their hideaways towards the figures by the lake, didn’t even feel the presence of the fey as they hovered sentinel around the sacred lake. All his focus, all his tears, all his anguish was focused down to the body laid in his lap. His hand nestled securely in Emrys’ black curls his other upon the absent heartbeat. 

He had no words though; there were no possible words he could say. 

“Mordred,” a shivering voice spoke on the wind. Startling his gaze up Mordred saw her, the ancient Lady of the Lake, the keeper to Avalon. 

“My Lady,” he managed to croak eventually through the film of tears on his face.

“Mordred,” the lady sighed, kneeling down in the shores of her lake. Her eyes cast sadly over the still figure and rested her dainty hand upon Emrys’ still one that had fallen casting his fingers into the clear waters. “Emrys sleeps now.”

“No,” Mordred choked tightening his hold. “No, you cannot have him, I can save him!”

“His magic has already returned to the earth,” the lady spoke gently. “Now his body must too. Let him be at rest now Mordred.”

Mordred looked up then and noticed the denizens and creatures stood solemnly amongst the waters and foliage, he saw the tides of Avalon rising form the tears of the sprits, his quickly joining them all as they still dripped easily fro, his chin. 

“Give him to us Mordred,” she spoke once more. “He has earned a rightful place in Avalon. He will not suffer any more, young knight.”

“Why,” Mordred asked, the only question running through his head these past moments. “Why did this happen?”

“Arthur is his own bane,” the lady shook her head sadly. “It has always been foretold that his decisions would bring about his own downfall.” She looked down upon Emrys sadly. “It was never foretold they would lead to this though.”

“I will show Arthur what downfall truly is,” Mordred growled. “Once I am done with him and his precious kingdom it will be nothing more than myth and dust.”

“Be wary young knight,” the lady spoke quickly, capturing Mordred’s hand before he could retreat. “Revenge never brings anything but more pain and bloodshed-“

“It isn’t revenge,” Mordred whispered glancing once more down upon Emrys’ still form. “It is justice.”

Leaning down Mordred pressed his lips to Emrys’ forehead, to his cold skin, remembering the texture and the smoothness beneath his lips. “You rest now,” he whispered only for Emrys’ hearing. “I will do my part. I will avenge you Emrys and we may see each other again in Avalon. “

Mordred stood then, the tears now dried upon his face as it hardened with each retreating step. The lake of Avalon just watched on helplessly as Camelot’s seed of destruction were tightly sown. 

But the Lady of the Lake had eyes for only one. She placed her hand gently against the crown of her past love and let out a sorrowful breath. “Oh Merlin, what did they do to you?”

She beckoned forward to the spirits and fey lurking in the folds of reality behind her. At her signal they came forward as one, timid and afraid, the air around them all trembling with grief. Each took a part, a finger, a leg and shoulder and lifted Emrys on high, hovering him over the waters to the lights of Avalon. 

The light shone bright when Emrys’ soul touched the sacred space, emitting light so pure it blinded the trees around, and then the lake was still, the trees and flowers and birds silent and Emrys was gone. 

\--

The battle ground raged red and bloody around him as Arthur trudged slowly across the scorched land. Neither the sun nor moon was visible behind the smoke and ashes hanging in the air, a sense of timelessness surrounded the place, like a cloak of inevitability. 

His men, his comrades, his brothers, his knights, littered the floor on which he walked, their blood soaking into the soil, feeding the earth. Moans and screams and pleas and shouts permeated the thick air to Arthur’s ears but he did not pause in his journey, his eyes fixed ahead. 

And then out of the shadows and the smoke he appeared. His young face pulled harshly into a mask of hate and spite, his once trusting, smiling eyes now haunted and hollow, his hair, once soft and curled now matted with the blood of the men he had slaughtered… all in the name of one man. 

Mordred saw him too, his shoulders straightening and his grip on the sword by his side tightening. No greetings were required, Arthur knew what Mordred intended to do, it was there in his eyes as clear as day. Arthur thought back to the smiling knight he had been, before death and grief and loss clouded his judgement and his heart. 

“This isn't what he wanted,” Arthur spoke wretchedly across the bloodied ground between them. They both knew of whom he spoke, the life that weighed on both their shoulders every day. 

“How could you possibly know?” Mordred spat at Arthur, his eyes flaring dangerously. “You knew nothing about him. I was the only one that knew even a fraction of his true self!”

“I knew the man he was,” Arthur shook his head sadly. “I may not have known all the things he did but I knew him. And he wouldn’t want this war, this bloodshed.”

\--

Mordred’s jaw tightened and his chin lifted but he didn’t respond, the need for revenge and retribution burning clear inside him. There was nothing this lowly king could say that would sway him.

“Even,” the King continued, “even in his last breaths he wanted to protect us…. He made us these.”

Arthur pulled a thin chain from the neck of his armour, the odd sphere not of the earth’s making glinted strangely in the fires roaring lights. And just for a moment Mordred felt it again, a feeling he thought he would never experience again. The true sizzling warmth of Emrys’ power soothing and warring through his being, surrounding his heart and enclosing his fingers and whispering through his brain. 

“He made one for you too,” Arthur spoke. “They are to protect us, he wanted to us all to be safe. Please Mordred... he would not want me to kill you.”

“And there’s the Arthur Pendragon I know,” Mordred scoffed swallowing down his renewing grief and the ancient magic that prickled uncomfortably against his new darker being. “So sure of himself… But you have yet to realise that you are nothing without him, nothing but a man with a shiny hat.”

“I know,” Arthur whispered wretchedly, tears staining his eyes. “I have realised more than you can possibly know, but what you are doing is not avenging his death, it is assuaging your own guilt!”

“My guilt?” Mordred hissed, taking a threatening step forward. “It was you who sought magic’s aid, you who didn’t heed his warnings-“

“And it was you that cast the spell! So who is to blame? The man that asked for the sword and sharpened it or the one that made the final parry?”

“Enough,” Mordred choked willing the tears from his eyes. He squared his jaw, and straightened his shoulders and held his sword aloft before him. “You’ve said quite enough.”

Mordred watched King Arthur take a deep shuddering breath and copy his stance, the trickles of their armies still battle around them. Their stances were set, their weapons held high and before the blows came King Arthur glanced up to the heavens once more and whispered: “Merlin forgive me.” And they engaged. 

The sounds of metal on metal reverberated around the earth as the two titans of the age fought. But in the end it was a futile struggle. In the end it mattered not who won the battle, which drew the most blood, which was quicker, faster, whose grief out shone whose. In the end the tides of the war had already been decided one night in the years before at the crying of a new born babe. 

There could be no victor.

Albion had lost its way, its Queen and heir fleeing from the crumbling walls of a once great city, its laws and hierarchy over run with bandits, slavers, hysterical heretics. The knights that once shone as a beacon of hope for all to see had been slain, one by one their bodies returning to the earth from whence they came. 

Magic had been tarnished, polluted by mans greed and fear and anger and it retreated, fleeing from the darkness that had consumed the world of man and returning again to the land, the trees, the air, the birds and creatures that inhabited it. 

So the last pillars of an age long already decimated and sent to the history books battled hard and fast among the sea of death. Their small metal weapons seeking flesh and destruction. The world looked on in a stony silence of resignation. In the end it mattered not who won. 

For they had both already lost.


End file.
